


Good Enough

by Lush_Specimen



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-26 09:49:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16679305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lush_Specimen/pseuds/Lush_Specimen
Summary: Spoilers for Lost Light 25Rodimus returns to the Exitus and has to confront the tangle of confusing emotions brought on by the funeral.





	1. Good Enough

**Author's Note:**

> The end of the Lost Light hit me pretty hard. I had more feelings than I knew what to do with and needed time to process everything.
> 
> I have a lot of ideas about the Exitus that I should probably sort out into an actual fic. Like Rodimus was offered the captain's chair first but recommended Thunderclash because he felt he didn't deserve it. Thunderclash was overjoyed because he literally had nothing else to do but insisted that Rodimus come with him (Team Rodiclash!). He then recruited a lot the mutineers from the Lost Light since they still have a lot of issues to deal with. Of course Riptide is there too!
> 
> But right now, Rodimus just needs a hug.

Rodimus leaned him head on the tiny window, watching the Exitus slowly fill up the view. When the familiar hum of the shuttle’s docking procedures began, he shut his optics and sighed. He didn’t know what he had expected to accomplish on this trip, but it felt like he failed again. They were once all so close. How did they become a family that only gets together for funerals? Primus, he could really use a drink. 

“Sir?” the tentative honorific broke his latest lapse into the malaise that hounded him since the destruction of the Lost Light. “The docking procedure is complete. We’re home.” 

“Yeah, thanks,” he muttered to his pilot. Ring, was it? He never remembered. Like most of the Lunarians, there was something so naggingly familiar about him, but Rodimus couldn’t quite put his finger on it, which made him feel even worse. It was like constantly hearing the music to your favorite song without being able to recall the words. 

“Home.” The word stuck in his throat. He lost every home he ever knew. No matter how hard he tried to protect it, in the end it all fell apart. How long could he hope this one would last? The familiar sense of guilt crept back into his spark. His good friend just died, but here he was beating himself up about old failures. He dragged his palm down his face, and mused that he couldn’t even mourn properly. 

Still struggling to push aside all the emotions that welled up on his recent trip, he stumbled off the shuttle into what felt like a brick wall. Shaking his head, he braced himself and looked up into a pair magenta optics, dimmed with grief. Thunderclash was right here waiting for him, just like always. Rodimus managed a sad smile, but his intended snarky comment came out as a sob. Everything he attempted to drown in engex before Ratchet’s funeral rushed to the surface. He succeeded in holding back his tears until one look at Thunderclash broke down all his defenses. Thunderclash instantly wrapped him up in his massive arms and just held him without saying a word. Rodimus made a half-hearted attempt to wriggle away. In response, Thunderclash loosened his grip just enough to let Rodimus know that he could leave if he really wanted to, but didn’t let go. 

Despite how he relaxed into the warmth of the embrace, Rodimus still contemplated pushing away until his felt Thunder’s engine misfire. Realizing he wasn’t the only one having a hard time, Rodimus reciprocated the hug and held on as tightly as he could. Time seemed to stop for the two of them as they anchored each other through the torrent of grief. Gradually Thunderclash’s engine resumed its comforting steadfast rhythm and Rodimus’ distressed shuddering eased into a tentative calm. 

Rodimus leaned back to meet Thunderclash’s optics. Although tears stained his cheeks, his smile was genuine. He finally found his voice as he chuckled, “We are so stupid.” 

Thunderclash rubbed his face with the back of his large hand, sobs turning into resigned laughter, “Yeah. I guess that makes us a perfect match.” 

“Well,” Rodimus grinned through his tears, “I suppose there are worse things to be than stupid together. 

“If you think I’m stupid now, wait to you hear why I didn’t go with you.” 

“You did promise to tell me when I got back, so let’s hear it.” Rodimus replied, grateful for the distraction. 

“It’s kinda silly,” Thunderclash sighed, “but if there’s one thing I learned from my time about the Lost Light, those are the things that matter most.” He pulled Rodimus close one more time for a quick hug then led him by the hand to their usual spot at the edge of the shuttle bay. Rodimus plopped down and kicked his feet over the end of the dock, dangling out into open space. Thunderclash settled in next to him, drawing a sense of security from leaning against the wall. 

Rodimus studied Thunderclash’s face, bronze cheeks darkened with tears and unconcealed grief softening the light of his usually bright optics. Thunderclash offered a half smile then stared out at the stars. He furrowed his brow, and Rodimus could practically see him try to put his thoughts in order. Rodimus smiled. Thunderclash was always incredibly transparent, he probably couldn’t hide his emotions if he tried. 

“I’ve known Ratchet forever, even before the war,” Thunderclash began. “Of course, he wasn’t quite so cynical back then. Now that I think about it, Ratchet’s life followed a perfect bell curve of cynicism,” he chuckled, miming the wave shape with one hand. “He was pretty optimistic when I first met him. I helped him study then we’d go out and get into trouble. Remind me to tell you some of those stories later. Anyways, after millions of years of war, he slowly built up a hard shell which his relationship with Drift finally helped to soften.” 

“When I... When...” Thunderclash winced and placed a hand over his own chest as if expecting some phantom pain. A shadow passed across his face as he fought the rush of terrible memories before continuing. “They brought me to Ratchet after I was shot. It was early in the war and the reality of friends getting killed hadn't yet become a part of daily life. I’ll never forget the look on his face. He called me stupid, too.” Thunderclash cast a sideways glance at Rodimus with his trademark lopsided grin. “He knew I was dying, I knew I was dying, hell, everyone in the whole division knew it. I tried to put on a brave face and make light of the situation. Even as he worked to stabilize my fading spark, I asked him to say something nice at my funeral.” 

“I bet he got angry,” Rodimus grinned, thinking of Ratchet working so hard to save someone who already accepted the worst possible outcome. When it came to medical emergencies, Ratchet never gave up. 

“You have no idea! Angry at me for getting hurt and resigning myself to my fate, but also angry that all of his considerable skill couldn’t quite fix my injury,” Thunderclash shook his head. “He said he didn’t have time to go to funerals for idiots who throw themselves into the line of fire, with no consideration given to those they leave behind. Feeling rather indignant, I informed him, loudly and in no uncertain terms, that I wouldn’t to go his funeral either. To which he shouted back, ‘Of course not! You’ll be dead!’ As the absurdity of the situation laced with the hazy influence of a substantial dose of painkillers crashed down on me, I burst into laughter.” 

“You laughed?!” Rodimus nudged him with his shoulder. “Come on. That sounds like something I would do.” 

“Told you,” Thunderclash gently nudged him back, “Perfect match! Anyways, at that point Ratchet broke down and started laughing too. It was all just too terrible to do anything else. The rest of the ward thought we both lost our minds. After that, it sort of became a running gag between us. We even made a wager, whoever died first would owe the other a hundred shanix. I loved teasing him about trying to collect because I was always certain that I would die first. Don’t think I didn’t notice his absence from my pre-wake when you saved me from the personality ticks all those years ago.” 

“He wasn’t even aboard the Lost Light at that time,” Rodimus muttered. 

“I know, but he sent a lovely message. ‘I wouldn’t be caught dead at your funeral’. I saved it.” 

“That’s so awful, it’s hilarious.” 

“I know. Skipping his funeral felt like the proper way to honor our relationship. If I actually went, I think he would haunt me. Although sometimes I wonder if that might not be so bad. I really miss him…” 

Rodimus considered everything Thunderclash just told him and shook his head, “Well, that’s either the stupidest, most stubborn thing I’ve ever heard or an incredibly beautiful commitment to ordinary friendship in extreme circumstances.” He stared out across the countless twinkling stars, thinking about the rest of his old crew scattered to the winds of the universe. Before today, he hadn’t seen many of them in years and could probably count on one hand the number of times they talked. As the tears welling up in his eyes muted the stars into a hazy glow, he managed to croak out one word, “How?” 

“How?” Thunderclash startled, apparently lost in his own memories. “How what?” 

“I know you didn’t see Ratchet for long periods of time. How could you stay close enough to commit to a centuries old private joke?” 

“Because we loved each other,” Thunderclash answered, like it was so obvious. “Time and space can't restrict friendship.” 

“But it’s not enough,” Rodimus felt the tears burn down his cheeks as he hugged his knees to his chest. “I loved them. I loved them all, but it wasn’t enough to keep them safe, to keep us all together. Love couldn’t save my home. Love couldn’t save Megatron, even though I tried. I really tried so hard, but it was never good enough. I’m... I’m not...” he trailed off and let the silence say what he could not. Rodimus rested his helm on his huddled knees so he didn’t have to look at Thunderclash. He couldn’t bear to see his own pain reflected in those gentle magenta optics. 

“Things don’t quite work that way,” Thunderclash said quietly and gently wrapped an arm around Rodimus shoulders. He hesitated for a moment, clearly organizing his next response, “You know how I love speeches.” 

“Yeah,” Rodimus sighed, relaxing just slightly with the introduction of a new subject. “Rewind used to send you recordings from earth to Cybertron and everything in between.” 

“He still does actually,” Thunderclash replied. “Most of them are repeats of things that he sent years ago, but I always send my thanks.” 

Rodimus shuddered at the mention of his old crew member. Although he had no control over Rewind's condition, he somehow felt responsible for that too. 

“I want to share a passage of my absolute favorite speech with you. I even have it engraved on the inside panel of my spark casing.” 

“Whoa,” Rodimus looked up, intrigued. “It must be pretty impressive.” 

“It changed my life,” Thunderclash nodded. “Although there were many of us in the battlefield that day, when my captain spoke these words, it felt like he was speaking directly to me. We had an impossible task to accomplish but I was just a patched together soldier with half a spark who recently let a lot of people down. How could someone like me ever be enough to do something so great? He believed every word he spoke so completely, so confidently, that I couldn’t help but believe them too. Whenever I feel those familiar doubts creeping back, I remember these words:  
  
_“Okay, so you’ve made some bad decisions. You’ve hurt people. You've hurt yourself. You’ve stumbled through life from one self-inflicted disaster to the next without anything even approaching a plan. Maybe you’re not good... but you’re sure as hell good enough.”_  
  
“Shut up,” Rodimus whispered in awe, staring at Thunderclash like he never saw him before. “I totally said that. I gave your favorite speech? Me?” 

“I mean it as much today as you did back then,” Thunderclash placed his hands on Rodimus’ shoulders and turned slightly to face him. “So much is out of our control. Things change, people make difficult choices, plans fall apart, good friends pass away, but none of that effects who you are. And no matter what happens or where you go, Rodimus, you’re sure as hell good enough.” 

This time Rodimus didn’t even try to stop the tears.


	2. One Phone Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally coming to terms with his complicated emotions about the break up of his crew, Rodimus receives a call from the best friend that he'd been avoiding.

Rodimus didn’t push away when Thunderclash pulled him into a tight embrace. Maybe he was right all those years ago. Terrible things had happened but they had no bearing on his personal worth and should never make him feel somehow less than enough. Figures ol’ Thunders would know what to say, although, the fact that he was quoting Rodimus’ words filled him with satisfaction. Curling up against Thunderclash chest, Rodimus drew comfort from the steady hum of his engine. 

He pictured Thunderclash and Ratchet screaming at each other, then dissolving into hysterical laughter in the middle of a field hospital and hoped that at least some of his old crew had similar stupid memories of their time together. Remembering what first got his attention, Rodimus felt his mouth quirk upwards into the beginnings of a smile as he looked up at Thunderclash. 

“Did you really engrave my words next to your spark?” 

“Of course,” Thunderclash tilted his head to one side, looking a little hurt. “I wouldn’t make up something so serious.” 

Feeling mischievous for the first time in a long time, Rodimus grinned like a turbofox on the prowl, “Show me!” 

“Sure,” Thunderclash shrugged as he released the locks on his central access panel. He pulled the door open with one hand while still holding Rodimus with the other. 

“Right here in the shuttle bay!” Rodimus threw a forearm across his face in feigned shock, “Have you no sense of modesty?!” 

“Please,” Thunderclash rolled his optics. “It’s not like you’ve never seen my spark before.” 

Although that was true, Rodimus still blushed as the silver blue light of Thunderclash’s scarred spark washed over them. Thunderclash pointed near the top of the interior armored panel. Inscribed in a flowing elegant script that Rodimus never noticed before, it read _“You may not be good, but you’re sure as hell good enough.”_

“It’s written upside down,” Rodimus observed, craning his neck to see the ornate letters. 

“That’s so I can read it,” Thunderclash chuckled, “whenever I need to remember I’m more than just a bunch of spare parts cobbled together around a patch-work spark.” 

Rodimus stared at his words. He had no idea that anything he did ever affected anyone so much. Maybe he did need to take his own words as serious as Thunderclash did. Somehow it seemed easier to believe in himself when he knew Thunderclash had the utmost confidence in him. 

“Thank you,” Rodimus met Thunderclash’s optics. “For this, for sharing your story about Ratchet, and especially for always being here.” 

Thunderclash’s magenta optics shone brightly, but before he could reply the vid screen on the adjacent wall lit up. 

“Ahoy captains!” Blaster cheerily announced until he noticed the distinct blue spark light illuminating the two of them. His face lit up bright pink, “OH!! Oh Primus! I’m so sorry! Am I interrupting something?” 

Rodimus moved himself protectively in front of Thunderclash as he resealed his spark chamber. “I told you a million times, Blaster. I am not the captain of this ship,” he groaned. 

“I know that, sir!” came the chipper reply. “Thunders may be the captain of my ship, but you’ll always be captain of my spark,” Blaster added with a wink. 

Normally Rodimus brushed off their routine exchange with a grumble and went for a drink. Folding his arms and leaning back against Thunderclash, he decided to pursue the issue. After all, if he truly is good enough, then he deserved an actual answer, “Why?” 

“Why, sir?” 

“Yeah, why?” 

“Because,” Blaster chewed his bottom lip, “I treated you terribly, but when it came down to the wire you still saved my life and forgave me. I will always remember that someone cared about me that much, even when I really didn’t deserve it. That’s why.” 

Rodimus started. He had no idea that some of his former crew thought of him in that way. Things were different now. The Lost Light was gone. Ratchet was dead. People moved on with their own lives. But he was still here and maybe he wasn’t so alone after all. 

“What did you need, Blaster?” Thunderclash rested his chin on Rodimus’ shoulder, one arm comfortably curled around his waist. 

“Oh! Sorry!” Blaster fiddled with a few buttons on the communications panel. “I received an incoming transmission. It’s Drift. He’s looking for you again, Rodimus. Do you want to accept the call this time? I could patch him through Riptide instead, if you want. He loves fielding your calls.” 

“I could totally distract him again for you, Roddy! I am so good at it!” Riptide bumped Blaster out of the frame. “Hi, Thunders!” He flashed a grin full of shark teeth and waved excitedly. Thunderclash smiled and returned Riptide’s enthusiastic wave. 

Blaster shoved Riptide away and reclaimed his chair. While those two continued to scuffle around on the vid screen, Rodimus considered his options. He had been avoiding Drift’s calls for a while because things weren’t the same. Everything was so different from when they traveled together aboard the Lost Light. He absent-mindly reached his hand into the air. When Thunderclash caught his hand and their fingers entwined, he smiled as tiny flames danced along the edge of his spoiler. Maybe different wasn’t so bad after all. 

“Do you want me to leave?” Thunderclash whispered. 

“NO!” Rodimus squeezed his hand and pulled him closer. “I mean, please don’t go. I really need some moral support with the one.” Rodimus winced. He felt slightly guilty asking Thunders to stay. After all this was Drift. They were best friends even before the Lost Light. He never should have needed help to talk to him, but their lack of recent communication created an intense feeling of unease in his spark. At least relying on Thunderclash was a step up from gulping a shot of Nightmare Fuel to settle his nerves. 

“Blaster,” Rodimus rubbed his face, hoping to wipe away most of the evidence of tears. “Please patch me through.” 

“Woo hoo! YES!” Riptide whooped, exuberantly shaking Blaster by the shoulders and giving Rodimus the double thumbs up. “You can do it, cap! We believe in you! Also, say ‘hi’ to Drift for me! And tell him I miss him! Oh! One more thing-” Blaster placed his palm on the side of Riptide’s face and tried desperately to shove him away. Rodimus laughed in spite of himself. 

Having regained command of his station, Blaster focused on his control panel, unable to look directly into the camera, “Rodimus, sir? This isn’t the time but since you asked, I know I screwed up. I never had the courage to properly apologize for the whole mutiny thing, but-” 

“I already told you, everything is forgiven,” Rodimus cut him off with a gentle smile. “It’s okay.” 

“Thank you,” Blaster sighed. “For what it’s worth, I just want you to know that I am here for you now. I won’t make that mistake ever again.” 

Before he could argue the point any further, Blaster switched the frequencies and Rodimus found himself face to face with Drift. He yelped a quiet squeak of surprise as Drift’s crystal blue optics widened. 

“Rodimus?” Drift asked, his voice filled with a heartbreaking mix of uncertainty and hope. 

Drift looked so good. Beautiful golden Spectralist filigree flowed over his pristine red and white paintwork. Even after just losing the love of his life, Drift was the absolute image of refined nobility. Rodimus was suddenly painfully aware that he hadn’t had a polish in ages and numerous scratches marred his faded frame. He felt his face flush with shame and might have bolted if it wasn’t for Thunderclash’s hand in his, silently anchoring him in place with his steadfast support. 

“Drift?” Rodimus rubbed the back of his helm with his free hand and looked up with the beginnings of a sheepish grin. 

“You look,” Drift started with surprise that softened to a familiar kindness, “Well, you look terrible.” 

“Oh, thank god!” Rodimus felt relief wash away some of his nervousness. 

“Not quite the response I was expecting,” Drift raised a brow ridge. 

“Yeah, well, I feel terrible and I know you can see that, probably in like six different ways,” Rodimus sighed. “If you had tried to tell me otherwise, we’d both know you were lying. Regardless of what other lies we told, we’ve always been honest with each other.” 

“I’m just surprised that I actually got a hold of you. I mean that in a good way. Every other time I’ve tried to call, you were never around.” 

“You know me,” Rodimus shrugged. “I’m always... always on the run...” He trailed off as the weight of those words hit his spark like a blast from a fusion cannon. ‘On the run.’ He had been running, away from the loss of his ship, from Megatron’s sentence, from Ratchet’s death, from Drift, from everything. Suddenly the reality of his constant flight came crashing down around him, stunning him into uncharacteristic silence. Grief was a process, but the only way out is through. He stopped processing and started running a long time ago. 

Sensitive as ever, Drift perceived his distress and gracefully changed the subject with the perfect poise of one of his sword arts maneuvers, “Is that Thunderclash with you?” 

“Yeah,” Rodimus coughed, blinking back tears. “And I’m starting to wonder what I’d ever do without him.” 

Thunderclash finally leaned over to fit in the view of the vid screen, a slight blush on his face. “Hello, Drift,” he began, placing his free hand over his spark. “Please allow me to extend my deepest sympathies for your loss-” 

“It was your loss too,” Drift cut him off with an upraised hand. “Besides, Ratty told me you wouldn’t come. In fact, that’s partly why I called. Roddy said you were on your way to the Acklaw system. I... Umm... I need to visit that area and wanted to ask if it would be okay if I stopped by.” 

“Of course, Drift!” Thunderclash answered with a warm smile. “Please, don’t even feel that you have to ask. You are always welcome.” 

“Yeah,” Rodimus added, growing a little braver as their conversation continued. "We are family after all. Once a Lost Lighter, always a Lost Lighter.” 

“Thank you,” Drift smiled, tension easing out of his shoulders like a weight had been lifted. “I had been terrified that you might say ‘no’. Besides, this has been driving me crazy.” He produced a small package with a sketch of Thunderclash’s winged autobrand on it. “I have no idea what it is, but Ratty told me to deliver this personally to Thunderclash after he... after the funeral.” He gave the packet a light toss and it chimed with the distinct jingle of loose shanix. 

Rodimus felt Thunderclash’s engine stall behind him as he whispered, “No. He wouldn’t dare.” 

“Oh, I think he would,” Rodimus snickered. “I’d bet my spoiler that there’s a hundred shanix in there.” 

“Oh, Ratchet,” Thunderclash started to laugh and quickly dissolved into tears. Rodimus wrapped his arms around his much larger partner doing his best to return the comforting embrace despite their significant size difference. Melting under Rodimus’ touch, Thunderclash buried his face in Rodimus chest and bawled. 

“Is it something I said?” Drift asked with growing concern. “Is he ok?” 

“It’s a long, stupid story. We’ll tell you all about it when you visit,” Rodimus looked over his shoulder to Drift and grinned. “As long as he doesn’t pass out, we’ll be fine.” 

“No promises,” Thunderclash muttered without looking up although his engine had resumed its steady rhythm. 

“I wish you were here now,” Rodimus sighed. “We could all be sad and stupid together.” 

“About that...” Drift stammered in a timorous voice, finials canted back. “I... I might be closer than you think.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Umm... I sort of might be... in a shuttle just out of range of the Exitus’ scanners.” Drift hesitated at first then quickly ran through the rest of his response. 

“WHAT?!” 

“I’m sorry! I just... Our house feels so empty now and I didn’t know where else to go. The only thing that I could think of was you, Roddy. After the funeral, I was so worried about you. But I could never get a hold of you and thought maybe you wouldn’t want to see me. Like you said, we’re honest with each other and I need someone I can really talk to,” Drift’s blue optics began to shine with tears and the distinct whine of an overheating vent fan reverberated over the transmission. “I had this packet to take to Thunderclash for Ratty so I thought... I thought maybe... If I could just...” 

“Whoa, Drift, take it easy,” Rodimus began gently while still holding Thunderclash. “Focus on the rhythm of your own engine, feel the steady firing of your pistons, count each rotation of your crankshaft.” 

Following Rodimus’ directions, Drift took a few moments to calm down. “Meditation tips from Rodimus of Nyon, now I really have seen everything,” Drift shook his head. 

“What can I say? I had a great teacher. A lot of things have changed, but not all for the worse. Now call Blaster to get the docking codes and get your aft in here. We’ll wait for you right here in the shuttle bay.” 

“Okay,” Drift nodded. “Riptide’s going to blow a gasket when he finds out I’m visiting. I’ve been talking to him a lot since you haven’t been around. He’ll be so happy.” 

“He’s not the only one,” Rodimus added with a wink. 

“Roddy, please,” Drift chuckled. “I’ll see you shortly.” 

When the vid screen went blank, Rodimus took the opportunity to check on Thunderclash, “Hey?” He caressed the side of Thunder’s face and wiped away his tears with his thumb. “Are you alright?” 

“For now.” Thunderclash sighed. “All bets are off once Drift gives me Ratchet’s farewell gift.” 

“You know I haven’t properly talked with Drift for a long time, right? Is the first thing we do together really going to be dragging your unconscious chassis to the medibay?” Rodimus grinned, but was only half joking. 

“Possibly,” Thunderclash shrugged. “It’ll give you two something to focus on. Besides, I know I’ll be in good hands.” 

“Good? Please! You deserve the best,” for the first time in what felt like forever, Rodimus offered one of his trademark thousand watt smiles. Genuine happiness radiated from some part of him that he thought faded away long ago, “Which of course is why I’m here!” 

“I don’t know if I deserve it,” Thunderclash laughed, “But I wouldn’t have it any other way!” 

Thunderclash stood up to watch for the approach of Drift’s shuttle and pulled Rodimus to his feet. Rodimus nestled in beside him and wrapped one arm around his waist as Thunderclash instinctively draped his arm across Rodimus’ shoulders. He felt more like himself than he had in a long time. After the crew broke up, everything he fought for fell apart so he did too. Although he knew it couldn’t have been easy, Thunderclash stayed by his side through it all. 

Out of the sea of countless shimmering stars, one steady point of light began to slowly grow larger. Tears welled up in his eyes again as Rodimus wondered if Ratchet was watching all this from the Afterspark. Ratchet always set him straight, even when it hurt, on everything from a dislocated fender to his massive failings in leadership. As he watched Drift’s shuttle approach, he felt a little guilty that it had taken Ratchet’s death for him to realize how far he had fallen off the rails. Somehow it seemed fitting, because Ratchet hated anything going to waste. He would have appreciated that his death helped spur some positive change, and then gave him grief for being so dramatic. 

“Thanks, Doc,” Rodimus whispered to the stars as the approaching shuttle’s lights shone brighter, warding off the emptiness of deep space. 

Rodimus smiled, remembering all the adventures they had all together on the Lost Light, good times and bad. Looking back, he realized that he had changed quite a bit during that journey so maybe he shouldn’t be quite so afraid of all the changes that came after. He had challenged gods and monsters to scrabble his way to victory against all odds. He traveled though time, space, and alternate dimensions using magic to rewrite history. He had lost everything and was slowly clawing his way back to himself. He is Rodimus of Nyon and he’s sure as hell good enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and crying about space robots with me!
> 
> As always, I love getting your kudos and comments!
> 
> Or you can find me on tumblr: lush-specimen.tumblr.com/

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> As always, I love getting your kudos and comments!
> 
> If you wanna talk about more Exitus head canons, you can find me on tumblr: lush-specimen.tumblr.com/


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